For years, I smugly prided myself as a non-fax machine person. I felt it beneath my dignity to own such a technical contraption. The quill is more my style than a computer but, being practical, I reluctantly use a computer, casting wistful glances at the

Just The Fax, M'am Rev. James L. Snyder
For years, I smugly prided myself as a non-fax machine person. I felt it
beneath my dignity to own such a technical contraption. The quill is
more my style than a computer but, being practical, I reluctantly use a
computer, casting wistful glances at the dust gathering on my quill.
Unfortunately, in the world in which we live, it is necessary to fax
some letters or documents to someone in some odd part of the world. I
don't like it, but that's just the way it is.
On the rare occasion when I must fax some document at an office supply
store, I usually sneak in the back way. It has been my experience, when
the fax man seeth me cometh, he always raises the price per page. This
is just a small service he does for Yours Truly.
Then, when paying for this service, the fax man usually says with an
impish grin, "When are you going to get a fax machine of your own?"
I always flash a smile back at him, but if he knew the thoughts in my
head, he would charge me more per page. Silence truly is golden,
especially for the person exercising the virtue.
Actually, I don't trust machines. I know a mind somewhere is controlling
all of these machines — a menacing, mischievous mind dedicated to the
simple task of messing up my life.
When I eventually break down and buy a fax machine someone will invent
something to replace it and I'll have another antique on my hands to
put alongside of my Underwood typewriter and boxes of 8-track tapes.
This notwithstanding, I ended up buying a fax machine several weeks ago.
I didn't want to, but I had no choice in the matter.
My printer finally went the way of all printers. I hated to see it go.
The left side was cracked where Noah, the original owner, dropped it.
For years, it served me quite well. My next printer will have a big ink
cartridge to fill.
I hate buying replacement equipment. Rarely is the new any better than
the old, just more expensive, not to mention complicated. But,
necessity is the stepmother of all complications in life, and I set out
to buy a new printer.
I resolutely did not want to buy a fax machine. Under no circumstance
did I want to buy a fax machine. Therefore, I ended up buying a fax
machine.
It is impossible to buy a printer anymore. In order to buy a printer you
must
buy a machine that prints/copies/scans/faxes. I think it's a pretty
sneaky way to get me to buy a fax machine. Someone "out there" is set
on me owning a fax machine even though I don't want to own one.
This new machine does everything but vacuum the interior of my car. But
it was the cheapest machine I could find.
I bought the machine but determined not to use the fax part. After all,
somebody has to stand up for what they believe. Not everybody should
succumb to the latest trend.
I was doing fine until ending up in the hospital. When I got out, I
needed to fax a document to the hospital. Now I faced a taxing dilemma.
Do I go to the office store and fax my document, or do I try out my new
printer/copier/scanner/fax machine?
Precedence finally gave way to convenience. I took my document to my new
machine and figured out how to fax it to the hospital.
Not being confident in my technical knowledge, I called the hospital
office to check on the faxed document. Much to my surprise the person
on the other end said in a very cheery voice, "Yes, I have the faxed
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